


it’s a bitch convincing people to like you

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: It's Complicated [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chameleon Arch, F/M, Martha is the best wingman, Or At Least I Tried, Rose is the Master, Some Humor, UNIT, alternate versions of series 3 and 4 resulted, both canon and made-up references to classic Dr Who, or is that wingwoman? I dunno, read the first fic if you want that to make sense, references to classic Doctor Who, set in about 2010 remember, the Master was fobwatched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: “Who’s this?” Martha asked. “A new companion of yours?”“What? Oh, no, no,” said the Doctor. “This is the Master.”Martha had, by this point, read through a large portion of UNIT’s file on the Doctor, even though it was non-computerized and took up fifteen filing cabinets in a room all of its own. The Master was a familiar name.She took a step back.





	it’s a bitch convincing people to like you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'I Can't Decide' by Scissor Sisters.
> 
> Okay, so I feel like this fic needs some explanation. In this universe, certain events of series 3 and 4 occurred, but not others. Martha Jones hasn't quite got over her crush on the Doctor, without the catalyst of the _Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords_ story arc. Martha never became kinda soldier-y in this 'verse, either - she's a medical doctor with UNIT. Also, Donna never got to meet her in series 4.
> 
> I'm not actually very familiar with the Doctor Who episodes from when the Doctor was exiled to Earth, so please bear with me if anything seems wrong.

** it’s a bitch convincing people to like you **

Martha was in her office, filling out paperwork, when she heard the familiar _vworp vworp_ sound of the TARDIS materialising. With a smile she put the paperwork aside, and went in search of the origin of the sound.

It was about time. She’d called the Doctor almost a week ago.

She found the TARDIS just as the Doctor was emerging from it, hand-in-hand with a pretty blonde woman who was wearing a black pant-suit with a red shirt under her suit jacket. Something about that outfit, with its distinctive colour combination, pinged a warning in Martha’s brain, but she didn’t know why, so for the moment she ignored it in favour of jogging over to the Doctor.

“Doctor,” Martha greeted him.

“Martha Jones!” said the Doctor, apparently delighted by her presence, and let go of the blonde woman’s hand to pull Martha into a hug.

And yes, Martha might be mostly over her crush on the Doctor, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to enjoy _every second_ of that hug. 

After a few moments had passed she and the Doctor parted, smiling at one another.

The blonde woman was, Martha realised, sending her a sort of appraising look.

“Who’s this?” Martha asked. “A new companion of yours?”

“What? Oh, no, no,” said the Doctor. “This is the Master.”

Martha had, by this point, read through a large portion of UNIT’s file on the Doctor, even though it was non-computerized and took up fifteen filing cabinets in a room all of its own. The Master was a familiar name.

She took a step back.

“You brought the _Master?_ ” she said, and then, “I thought all the other Time Lords were dead?”

Not her most tactful observation ever, but to be fair, the Doctor had a way of knocking her off-balance.

She asked another question before the Doctor could answer either of her previous questions.

“Isn’t the Master your nemesis?”

“Well, maybe,” the Doctor admitted, tugging on one ear. “For a bit. But honestly, that was ages ago, and we were friends first, you know.”

“We’ve reconciled,” explained the Master, with a toothy grin that did _not_ put Martha at ease. At all. “I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

At those words, the Doctor sent the Master such a blatantly doting look that Martha realised he was going to be no help at all. In fact…

Martha had seen that look before, now she thought about it, just never on the Doctor’s face.

“Oh my God,” she blurted out, “don’t tell me you’re _together_.”

The next moment she slapped a hand over her mouth, because normally she had more self-control than that, but… well, it was a horrifying realisation.

The Doctor looked awkward, like he didn’t want to say yes, but didn’t want to deny it, either. It was the Master who answered.

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s a not an answer, that’s a Facebook relationship status,” said Martha. The Doctor looked sheepish, but the Master got a furrow between her eyebrows.

“Facebook?” the Master repeated, and Martha wondered how this was her life.

“It’s a twenty-first century social media website–” the Doctor started to explain, but the Master interrupted him.

“You mean like MySpace?”

“You’ve never heard of Facebook, but you know what MySpace is?” asked Martha.

“I just spent nearly two years trapped in a parallel universe and only just got back,” said the Master. “Excuse me if I’m not exactly up to date with everything.”

“Hang on,” said the Doctor, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “That’s right. You spent _two years_ in Pete’s World. You must have been doing something that whole time.”

The Master looked, for the first time, a little uncomfortable.

“Well, I was trying to get back to you, obviously – _shut up_ ,” she said, seeing the Doctor’s knowing smile. “But honestly, that Earth was a sitting duck, ready to be conquered by the first aliens who stumbled into that corner of the universe. This Earth’s been dealing with invasions for ages, but they haven’t. So I gave the brightest minds on Earth a crash course on space travel and planetary defence – at least, up until the stars started going out, and then we were dealing with an entirely different problem.”

The Master scowled.

“Took me about a year of travelling between different universes before I narrowed in on this one again, and then…” She shrugged. “Well, you know what happened next.”

Something dark passed over the Doctor’s face.

“Yes, well, that’s in the past, now,” he said, just as a woman with red hair emerged from the TARDIS behind him.

“You two!” she snapped. “What’d I say about waiting for me?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Donna,” said the Doctor. The woman, apparently named Donna, didn’t look at all appeased.

“Let me guess, you two were busy making goo-goo eyes at each other and completely forgot about me.”

The Master smiled. This smile looked perfectly normal – lovely, even – unlike the toothy smile from a few minutes earlier.

“Forget about you, Donna? Never. You’re so much more tolerable than most of the Doctor’s companions.”

“Thanks. I think,” said Donna. She turned to Martha.

“Donna Noble,” she introduced herself.

“Martha Jones,” Martha said, still with a wary eye on the Master. “You travel with the Doctor then?”

“And Magister too, now,” said Donna, nodding, and Martha guessed that she meant the Master. “Let me tell you, it’s nice to meet another human being after a week running around with these two. And the Doctor got rid of whatever was in Magister’s head, a couple of weeks back–”

“I’m right here, you know,” said the Master.

“ –so you probably don’t have to worry about her killing anyone, or setting evil robots on them, or anything,” Donna finished.

“I do love an evil robot, though.” The Master sounded wistful.

“No evil robots,” the Doctor told her. “Especially not one with lasers. I hate it when they have lasers.”

“But everything’s more fun when you add lasers.” The Master was now grinning. “Especially evil robots.”

The Doctor frowned.

Martha looked back at Donna, who seemed more sensible than either the Doctor or the Master, and probably wouldn’t set an evil robot on anyone.

“Sorry, did you say there was something in the Master’s head?” Martha asked. “And the Doctor got rid of it?”

“The Time Lords did something to her when she was a kid, apparently,” Donna explained, with a glance towards the Master, as though expecting her to object to the topic of discussion. But the Master said nothing, simply watching both Donna and Martha. 

The same piercing intelligence that Martha sometimes glimpsed in the Doctor’s eyes was there in the Master’s, and it was a little unnerving.

“It was making her all violent and homicidal, according to the Doctor,” Donna went on, apparently not worried by the Master’s intent gaze the way that Martha was, “twisting her personality and everything. But the Doctor took it out.”

Martha sent one more, long look towards the Master, trying to gauge how hostile she seemed. Then Martha glanced at the Doctor, who was giving her his stern, _don’t disappoint me, Martha Jones_ look.

Martha sighed, and gave in.

“I have to report her presence to the head of UNIT,” she said. “It’ll be my job if I don’t. But why don’t you come along and meet her, and explain the situation to her yourself?”

The Doctor lost his stern expression.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“Why not?” said the Master, smiling again. “Although if I get shot–”

“No one’s going to shoot you!” said the Doctor, in a voice which suggested they’d had this argument before.

The Master looked unconvinced.

“You keep saying that, but I know humans.”

“Just – come on, her office is this way,” said Martha, before they could really get into an argument.

The two aliens and their human companion followed Martha willingly enough down the labyrinthine complex that was the current UNIT headquarters. Finally, Martha stood outside Kate Stewart’s office.

She took a deep breath, and reminded herself that she’d faced down worse things than a displeased Head of UNIT. She knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came the reply, muffled by the door. Martha opened it. 

“Ma’am,” she began, but the Head of UNIT immediately said, “Martha, how many times have I asked you to call me Kate?”

“Right,” said Martha. “Kate. Sorry. The Doctor finally showed up, as I asked, but he–”

“Hello!” the Doctor interrupted, walking into the office. “Kate Stewart! Oh, look at you! The last time your dad showed me a picture of you, you were knee-high to a grasshopper!” 

Kate looked flummoxed. But then, the Doctor often induced that reaction. 

“Mind you, it was a while ago,” the Doctor added, looking her up and down.

Martha heard the Master stifle a laugh.

Kate pulled herself together enough to ask, “He showed you a picture of me?”

“Oh, yes.” The Doctor was smiling. “Blue gingham dress and your hair in plaits. Adorable.”

“Don’t mind him,” said Donna, from where she and the Master stood in the doorway. “He gets like this.”

“Gets like what?” the Doctor asked. He seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Yes, I know. My father has stories,” said Kate, in response to Donna’s comment.

She stood up from her seat, and came around the desk to offer the Doctor her hand. He shook it happily.

“Doctor, it’s an honour to meet you,” she said. “UNIT owes you a debt of gratitude for all the times you’ve saved the Earth.” 

The Doctor looked pleased. Kate went on.

“It’s not urgent, but UNIT would greatly appreciate it if you would go through all the equipment you left behind when you stopped working for us. None of us have any idea what it does, and we don’t dare meddle with it.”

“Well –”

“I can tell you right now, most of it’s going to be junk,” said the Master, stepping into the room, and ignoring the Doctor’s offended reaction to her words. “Except for the Space-Time Telegraph, which is mildly useful, and I can guarantee he’s still got that pair of jet-propelled rollerskates somewhere, because he’s ridiculous like that.” 

“Jet-propelled rollerskates?” Donna repeated. The Doctor looked mildly embarrassed.

“Ah, yes,” said Kate, looking at the Master, and her next words made Martha’s train of thought screech to a complete halt. “And you’re Rose Tyler. UNIT owes you a debt of gratitude, as well as the Doctor.”

_ WHAT? _ Martha’s brain flailed wildly. _Rose? The same Rose he was pining over the entire time I travelled with him? How can she be THE MASTER??_

“Oh, really?” asked the Master in response to Kate’s greeting, grinning with too many teeth. “That sounds useful.”

“Um,” said the Doctor. “I should probably mention, actually –” 

“Kate,” said Martha, as her brain rebooted, “I don’t know why you think she’s Rose Tyler, but–”

“Thing is, I’m not actually Rose Tyler, anymore,” said the Master, interrupting both of them. “Time Lords have this way of temporarily rewriting our biology and memories to disguise ourselves as other species. Humans, for example.” She smiled, and it was the smile with too many teeth. “But I haven’t been human in a while. I am, in fact, the _Master_.”

Kate looked stunned for a second, while the Doctor winced. Then Kate went, “ _What?_ ” 

“She’s not dangerous,” the Doctor said quickly. “Well, I mean she _is_ , any Time Lord is, but her intentions aren’t hostile, I promise. Please don’t lock her up or try to shoot her, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Explain,” said Kate tersely. She’d gone very pale.

The Doctor went on a long and rambling explanation. Martha picked out the pertinent details from the babble. Apparently the Time Lords had done something to the Master’s mind when she was a child, for reasons the Doctor didn’t explain, and it had affected her entire personality. As she’d gotten older, her condition had deteriorated further and further.

“But I fixed it,” said the Doctor brightly, as though the tale he had just told wasn’t utterly horrifying. “So here she is, good as new, _tabula rasa_ and all that.”

“Look,” said the Master, and her expression was surprisingly earnest, considering who she was. “I know you have no reason to trust me. But I’m honestly trying to be a better person and everything, so just give me a chance, that’s all I ask. For his sake, if not mine,” she added, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the Doctor. “Because now he knows what was done to me to make me the way I was, he’s got this whole misplaced-guilt thing going on.”

For a moment, there was something shadowed in the Doctor’s eyes.

“I should have known,” he insisted, his voice quiet. The Master rolled her eyes, and turned back to Kate.

“See what I mean?” 

Kate stared long and hard at the Master, who looked back without a flinch. 

“Why are you here?” Kate finally asked. “With the Doctor? You were _enemies_.”

“We were friends first,” said the Doctor, repeating his words from earlier, but Kate said, without looking at him: “I was asking the Master.”

The Master looked at her.

“Because I was Rose Tyler,” she said. “And I met the Doctor. He showed me the world: shining, shimmering, splendid–”

“Hang on, is that a Disney song?” the Doctor interrupted.

The slightest of smiles appeared on the Master’s face.

“Could be. But stop interrupting, Doctor.” She looked back at Kate. “Point is, I got to see the world the way he does, all the wonder and brilliance of it, but he was the most brilliant thing about all of it, in the entire universe, and when I changed back from being Rose, I…” She shrugged. “Still felt about him the same way.”

The Doctor was staring at her, his heart on his sleeve, those expressive eyes of his filled with emotion. The Master shot him a small, almost shy smile. Martha had to admit that if she was acting, it was a good act.

Kate seemed to think so, too, because instead of immediately calling for the Master’s arrest she turned to the Doctor, and said: “If she puts one toe out of line, Doctor–”

“You’ll put me in prison?” The Master interrupted, looking amused. “Because that always works out so well.”

“Actually, I was thinking of something more permanent than prison,” said Kate evenly, meeting the Master’s eyes.

“ _Behave_ ,” said the Doctor, levelling a glance at the Master. “Come on, you’ve been doing so well.”

“I know, saved the planet and everything, twice,” agreed the Master. “It’s been a busy week.” 

“You’re telling me,” Martha heard Donna mutter, and then say more loudly, “Right, now we’ve got that all sorted out, you want to tell us where this stuff is that you want the Doctor to look at?”

“Storeroom 2B,” said Kate. “I’m sure Martha knows where it is.”

“Right then, we’ll get out of your hair,” said the Doctor cheerfully, and took the Master’s hand. “Come on, then, Donna, Martha!”

The two Time Lords left the room. Donna stayed behind for a moment, and sent Kate a level look.

“You know, Magister’s not that bad, really,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure that if the Doctor found out you’d seriously thought about hurting her, there’d be nowhere on Earth safe for you to hide.”

With that said – and without waiting for a response – Donna walked out of Kate’s office.

Martha was the only one left behind to see Kate sag, and give a long sigh.

“Keep an eye on them,” Kate told Martha, her voice weary. 

Martha nodded, understanding the weariness perfectly.

“I will,” she said, and then, when there was a distant call of _“Martha!”_ from the Doctor, went hurrying after the others.

* * *

Storeroom 2B was on the second floor, and the first door on the right. Martha opened the door with the words, “Here we go, Storeroom 2B.” 

Donna and the Master stared.

But the Doctor went bounding into the room like an excited puppy, beaming. After a moment, the Master followed him in, and walked over to a table and picked up a… thing, Martha had no idea what it was.

“ _What_ ,” said Donna, after a moment, still standing in the doorway and staring, “a pile of _junk!_ ”

“Oi,” said the Doctor, indignant, “I’ll have you know, Donna Noble–”

“How long has all this been sitting here?” Donna asked Martha, ignoring the Doctor’s comment altogether.

“Since about 1973, probably,” said the Master, fiddling around with the whatever-it-was she was holding. “That was when he stopped being exiled, I think.”

“What?” Donna stared at the Master. “What do you mean, _exiled?_ ”

“Back in the seventies, the Doctor was exiled to Earth,” said Martha to Donna. “None of the files actually say _why_ , though.”

“The Doctor’s sort of… unconventional, for a Time Lord,” explained the Master. “The others never liked him much. Or me.” She pressed a button on the device in her hands, turning it on. It immediately went _ding_. The Master frowned down at it, distracted from her explanation. “Doctor, does this go ding when there’s stuff?”

Martha blinked at the sense of _déjà vu_ that question evoked.

“What?” The Doctor looked up from the dusty notebook he was looking through. The pages were covered with tiny circular shapes, written in a messy hand. The Master held up the device for him to see, and he blinked. “Blimey, is that my old timey-wimey detector?”

Martha had been stuck with the Doctor in 1969, once. It wasn’t an experience she ever wanted to repeat, but it meant that the Doctor’s use of the phrase _timey-wimey detector_ wasn’t complete gibberish.

“Hang on, that thing detects anomalies in the time stream?” she asked. The Master glanced over at her, looking mildly impressed. But all the Master said was, “You’ve travelled with the Doctor too long, if you can translate that.”

Well. The Master wasn’t _wrong_.

“I built it when I was stranded on Earth, with UNIT,” said the Doctor, walking over to peer at the device, “so I could detect if any other Time Lords came to Earth. I had some idea of talking them around and pleading my case, as I recall. But no one ever came – well, except the Master, and that was always more trouble than it was worth.”

“No Time Agency playing around in the time stream, back then,” the Master added, “just the Time Lords. So, no Time Agents to mug.”

“Wait, is _that_ how you got your vortex manipulator?” asked the Doctor, with a suddenly accusing tone to his voice.

Before the two Time Lords could go off on a tangent, Donna said, “But if that goes ding when it detects something… then what’s it detecting?”

Everyone looked at the timey-wimey detector.

“Maybe it was just a fluke,” said Martha, “I mean, that device is older than I am, so maybe it just…”

The timey-wimey detector went _ding_ a second time.

“Nope, it’s definitely detecting something,” said the Master. “But what?”

“Could be anything,” said the Doctor. “Can barely wander around without falling over a time-traveller, these days.”

“Says you,” said Donna.

“Could be the Rift in Cardiff,” said the Master, looking speculatively down at the timey-wimey detector. “We could pop over and see, I suppose.”

“There’s an idea,” said the Doctor. “Fancy a jaunt to Cardiff, Martha?”

Martha pursed her lips.

“You’re talking about going into Torchwood territory.”

“Don’t tell me there’s a _rivalry_ ,” said the Master, looking delighted. “UNIT vs. Torchwood? Really?”

Martha suppressed a sigh at the Master’s delight.

“Their motto of if _it’s alien, it’s ours_ didn’t go down so well with UNIT. Torchwood Three’s meant to be different, ever since Captain Harkness took over, but apparently he has a bad habit of seducing all the UNIT liaisons.”

“Sounds like him, yeah,” said the Doctor.

“Plus his people kept hacking our files,” Martha added. “That didn’t exactly create a feeling of goodwill between our organisations.”

“We can always visit him later,” said the Master. The Doctor looked torn.

“Yes, but–”

“Doctor, you have an entire storeroom of junk that’s been here longer than Martha’s even been alive,” said the Master, in a tone that brooked no argument. “It’s time you did something about it. Whatever the anomaly is, it can wait.”

The Doctor grimaced.

“But that’ll take _forever_ ,” he said, perilously close to whining.

“All the more reason to start now, Doctor,” said Donna briskly. “We’ll help.”

The Doctor made another face, but went, “Oh, I suppose.”

They got started. Somehow, Martha got roped into helping as well.

The stuff in the storeroom ended up being sorted into three categories, each with its own pile: _Dangerous_ , _Useful_ , and _Complete Rubbish_.

“This is boring,” said the Master, eventually, when they were about halfway through sorting it all. “I might put some music on, yeah?”

“Go ahead,” said Martha.

The Master grinned, and pulled out something that looked a lot like an iPod, but wasn’t.

“Parallel universe technology,” the Master said, when she saw Martha looking. She tapped the screen several times, before putting the not-an-iPod down on a shelf. It began playing music.

_ I can’t decide whether you should live or die,  _ went the chorus, the song’s lyrics in stark contrast to its poppy, upbeat tune. The Master hummed along, bopping around on the spot as she continued to sort through random tech, apparently oblivious to the fact that her choice of song left Martha and the others feeling a bit… _uncomfortable_.

“What _is_ this?” asked the Doctor, his eyebrows raised in that way that meant he was trying very, very hard not to judge someone else’s life choices.

“Scissor Sisters,” replied the Master, naming a band that Martha had heard of but didn’t know very well, and started singing along to the lyrics. “ _My heart feels dead inside, it’s cold and hard and petrified–_ ”

“Right,” said the Doctor, taking in Martha’s creeped-out expression, “how about a different song, Master?”

“Something that doesn’t scream _serial killer_?” suggested Donna, looking a little unsettled herself.

The Master paused.

“Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry.” She danced her back over to the not-an-iPod, and changed the song.

This one was much more, well, _normal_ , and Martha relaxed slightly. But only slightly.

The Master grinned at the Doctor.

“Dance with me, Doctor,” she suggested.

“We’re supposed to be sorting stuff–” the Doctor began to protest. But the Master did this thing where she sort of caught her tongue between her teeth, still grinning at him, and the Doctor stopped protesting.

“I suppose we can spare a few minutes, can’t we?” he said, and stepped forward to take the hand the Master proffered.

They proceeded to perform the Jive all over the small area of clear space available in the room. Both of them were laughing.

Martha sighed, and wondered what the Master had that she didn’t. Except – the Master was pretty enough, and she and the Doctor clearly had a history, however conflicted it was, and then there was the fact that they were both the same species, and the last of their people.

So yeah, Martha could kind of see it, when she tried to look at it from the Doctor’s perspective. She hated that she could.

“A bit much, aren’t they?” Donna asked, under her breath so the Time Lords wouldn’t hear, glancing towards Martha with a sympathetic face. “Try being stuck in the TARDIS with both of them. Two days ago, we were dealing with this swamp monster, in 1865. Got arrested for public indecency because me and Magister weren’t dressed for the 19th century, and if I never see a 19th century prison cell again it’ll be too soon. Those cells were _disgusting_. Anyway, Magister made this comment about handcuffs, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Doctor go so red in my life.”

“That’s…”

“Typical,” interrupted Donna, darkly. “The worst part is, the Doctor doesn’t seem to know what to do about it. He flirts back, but that’s it. I don’t think they’ve even snogged. It’s like watching a glacier move.”

“Well,” said Martha, slowly. “It’s not like they don’t have time. Hundreds of years old and all that, you know. Time moves differently, I guess.”

“I know,” said Donna, “but it’s driving me bonkers.”

They both looked back at the Doctor and the Master. The pair of Time Lords were now swaying on the spot in time with the slow song that was now playing, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

Martha wondered if that was what the Master had meant by _it’s complicated_ – that both of them held feelings for each other, but had yet to make a move. If so, it was ridiculous – the Doctor was _clearly_ completely gone on the Master… and she seemed to be sincere about the way she felt about _him_.

Martha squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, and told herself that this was for the Doctor.

“So, Doctor,” she called out, interrupting the dancing, “have you two kissed yet?”

The Doctor spluttered.

“Martha!”

“Serious question,” said Martha, giving the Doctor her best solemn expression. “Because if not, that’s something you should probably fix at some point, don’t you think?”

The Doctor stared at Martha, something that might have been panic in his eyes, mixed with some other emotion that held more weight. 

Then he looked down at the Master, who was looking up at him with what looked like wary caution. But whatever the Doctor saw in her eyes must have appeared different to him, because he went, “ _Oh_.” 

Then, a moment later: “Oh, Master.” said the Doctor. His voice was soft, affectionate. 

Apparently that was all the Master had been waiting for, because she pulled the Doctor’s head down to hers and next moment the two of them were kissing passionately. Right there.

Sometimes Martha really hated her life.

“She didn’t mean right this second!” said Donna, on the same wavelength as Martha. But neither of the Time Lords stopped. Donna made an exasperated face.

“Come on, let’s go get a cuppa – you have got a kitchen somewhere on base, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Martha, trying not to watch what the Doctor and the Master were doing, “but I’m supposed to keep an eye on–”

“Look,” said Donna, kindly, but with authority, “I doubt Magister’s going to do anything nefarious right now. So let’s go take a break and leave them to it, yeah?”

Martha sent one last glance at the couple, locked in their embrace. Shaking her head, she said, “Yeah, a cup of tea is looking pretty good right now.”

“Come on then,” said Donna. “You can show me where the kitchen in.”

They left the storeroom. Martha sighed.

“You know,” she said, out of nowhere, “I’ve fancied him for ages, but I just sort of thought he was… unattainable. That it was an alien thing, not…” 

“Trust me, it’s an alien thing,” said Donna. “Both of them, they’re just…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words to describe the Time Lords. But Martha got it.

“Yeah,” said Martha, a bit glumly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Donna sent her a look full of sympathy.

“Cheer up,” said Donna. “Clever girl like you, you’ll meet someone.”

“Probably. But none of them will be him.”

“Thank God for that,” said Donna fervently. “Don’t think I could handle more than one of him – could you imagine?”

Martha started laughing.

“They’d be insufferable, all of them. Completely oblivious to what’s under their nose. Is the Master as bad?”

“Little bit,” said Donna. “Not so much. But then, she spent twelve years as a human. I think some of it stuck.” She sent Martha a smile.

Martha smiled back. She still felt bad about the Doctor finding someone else who wasn’t her, but she couldn’t help but be happy for him.

* * *

It took another few hours before the Doctor and the Master finished sorting through the storeroom, but eventually they and Donna left in the TARDIS, off on an adventure, no doubt.

Four days later, someone claiming to be a Torchwood agent turned up at UNIT headquarters, asking for Dr Martha Jones.

Martha went along to the interrogation room, curious about why a Torchwood agent would ask for _her_.

The agent turned out to be a young bloke somewhere around her own age. He wasn’t bad-looking, Martha couldn’t help but notice.

“I’m Dr Jones,” she said, walking into the interrogation room. “What can I do for you?”

The Torchwood agent’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at her. Then he slowly smiled. It was the kind of appreciative look that people with UNIT were usually too professional to send her way.

“Mickey Smith,” said the Torchwood agent, and then, “I used to travel with the Doctor.”

This time it was Martha’s eyebrows that rose.

“Did he send you?”

“Not exactly,” Smith hedged. “Actually, it was the Master. Kind of.” He looked a little rueful.

Martha frowned.

“You know her?”

“Yeah,” and Smith looked even more rueful. “She’s my ex.”

Martha gaped at him for a full thirty seconds.

“Or rather, Rose Tyler was, back before she turned into a Time Lord,” Smith added helpfully, seeing that he’d stunned Martha into silence. “Rose was great. The Master’s… also great, I guess, but terrifying.”

Martha stared at him some more, and finally said, “Why are you here?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” said Smith. “The Master said something about you needing someone who understood – although what she meant, I don’t know – the Doctor told her not to meddle, and then they got into an argument that ended with them sort of… staring into each other’s eyes, all intense. I got out of there fast.” 

Martha looked at him. Thought about the fact that the Doctor was now with someone, and the conversation she’d had with Donna, and the fact that the Master had apparently sent someone to her because she _needed someone who understood_.

The Master was right. And Mickey sounded like he would understand.

“You know, it’s almost my lunch break,” Martha found herself saying. “How do you feel about getting a coffee and swapping some stories about mad aliens?”

Smith smiled again.

“Sounds good to me.”

This time, Martha smiled back.


End file.
